Love of Grimm
by Chimericalistic
Summary: the Grimm Reaper falls in love with a human woman, and spends his time admiring her - but one of his Victims happens to be her brother, and when he discovers she can see him, he has to take her soul with him, and prove his love so he might cross over.
1. Chapter 1

Cold moonlight fell across her face – illuminating her cheek bones, her nose, her forehead – she was beautiful

Cold moonlight fell across her face – illuminating her cheek bones, her nose, her forehead – she was beautiful. Her chest rose and fell slightly as she breathed; her pale skin entangled in the sheets. I longed to reach out and touch her – to caress her soft skin and tangle her hair in my fingertips, but I could not… and I knew I could not… but I wanted it so badly it almost didn't matter; I was in love…

"It's unethical, Grimm," he snapped, his voice resounding in my head, loudly. I jumped, startled.

"Could you get _out_ of my head?" I whispered, "and _stop_ doing that."

"Well how else am I supposed to get you to listen?" he asked, obviously pleased that he was able to annoy me so much.

"I hate you," I told him quietly.

"Dude, why are you whispering?" he laughed at me. "She can't hear you."

"I _know_ that," I snapped back.

"Jeeze. Get out of there, man. Seriously."

I let out a fairly long, exasperated sigh, and allowed myself one last look at her pretty sleeping face. I wrapped myself up in my cloak and spun quickly in circles - _POOF_ – I was back at my office. Jared was waiting for me, he wasn't hiding his annoyance. I flashed him a dashing smile, and hung my cloak on the rack. He shook his head in disgust.

"What's the matter with you?" he demanded. "Man, you're losing your head over this chick." He paused for a moment, before realizing what he'd said. "Sorry," he offered, though still angry.

"I don't care anymore," I said. "And I know… it's driving me crazy." I sat at my desk, barely taking time to glance at the huge stack of To-Die files on the edge of my desk.

"Falling in love is _stupid_, dude. It's for **humans**."

"We are humans," I argued.

"No, man – we _were_ humans. We're dead, remember?"

"Vaguely…"

"You're such a dumb ass," he said, folding his arms.

"Takes one to know one," I chided.

"Oh good _Lord_, Grimm – how old **are** you?" He was almost yelling at this point, but instead he just heaved a huge sigh and stormed out of my office.

I did feel a little guilty about pissing Jared off – he was the only one here who didn't spend all of his time trying to impress me; and he wasn't all depressed and obsessive over finding his purpose.

I pulled the stack of To-Die files towards me, and began shuffling through them, not really paying attention to who was in the pile. I flipped through pile after pile – all the faces; smiling stupidly, laughing, picking their noses, crying, or just pissed in general, like I was. I sat there, staring at the files in front of me and letting my mind wander…

I had died in 1650, a victim of some strange European illness that took out my whole family. As a human I'd been… eccentric, to say the least. I'd thrown parties, married a beautiful girl and fathered two children… my wife was kind, and intelligent, but I never loved her as I should have. She was convenient, and it was a definite business marriage; I was set on owning part of her father's land, and to do that I had to be wed to her first. I didn't mind it, so much. She was good company, pleasant to look at, and she was very helpful to have around; but I never fell in love with her.

It was late autumn when my son fell ill; contracting the illness from one of his friends or something. It wasn't long before my daughter and my wife were both sick as well. I never understood why it took so long to take me under; I always assumed it was my strong constitution, but one winter morning I passed into the darkness, following my wife and children by only a few weeks…

I woke up in a strange room; it looked rather like a business office, which struck me as odd. There was a man seated at a desk, a stack of parchment to his left that stood about three feet high. He was reading one of the papers, making strange noises with his throat, and studying it as if were of the utmost importance. I cleared my throat loudly.

"Excuse me," I said, trying to get his attention. "Where am I?"

"You're dead," he answered, not looking away from the parchment.

"I'm… dead?" I stammered. I sat for a moment, unsure of how to feel. This certainly didn't look like heaven, but it was much too comfortable to be hell. Perhaps the Christians had been wrong after all… but no, how could that be? This didn't make sense. I couldn't be dead. "Surely, there's some mistake," I suggested, trying to see the truth.

"No, you're dead." He set down the parchment briefly, scrutinizing me. He cleared his throat loudly and resumed reading the parchment.

"Well, where are my wife and children? Don't I get to see them?" I asked, truly confused.

"No," he answered.

"Why not?"

"Because their souls have crossed over to the Other Side," he said, somewhat annoyed. "They lived their lives as they wanted to."

"Then why I haven't I crossed over?"

"You have "unfinished business", as they say." He set down the parchment and looked me straight in the eyes. "Your soul will not cross over until you have fulfilled that part of your life."

"But what didn't I do? I don't understand."

"That's the part you have to figure out on your own."

"So what am I supposed to do until I figure that out?"

"You remain here, and work for us until it comes to you. As a Reaper; you will go to Earth and bring back the souls of people as they die, and help them pass over to the Other Side. If you're here long enough, you'll get promoted – you may even sit in this desk someday. I doubt that, though." he chuckled at his own little joke. "Congratulations. It's a great job," he said, trying to shine some light on it.

"I won't be here long enough to enjoy it, I assure you."

"That's what everyone says." he sighed, and handed me a piece of parchment. "That's your first Victim," he said. "To be killed by ten-o-five tomorrow morning. If you go see Vicki, she'll see about a cloak for you, and Tim will teach you how to Vanish…"

"Are you God?" I asked him.

"No," he said, as if he got that a lot. "My name's Grimm."

I spent _years_ Reaping souls for Grimm; sometimes doing hundreds in one day. Grimm was very impressed, needless to say, and I rose through the ranks swiftly. It was only 50 or so years before he found _his_ purpose, and after he'd fulfilled it, he was ready to pass over to the other side. Before he'd left, he took me aside.

"This is very important," he told me. "I trust you – you're a natural at this stuff. And though it's unfortunate that you've had to stay here so long, I think you've got what it takes to be the head of this shindig. What do you say?"

"I… I don't know," I replied, and I really didn't.

"Just say yes," he said, "and you can be in my shoes." He looked at me earnestly, his eyes full of something- it looked almost like peace; as if crossing over was all he needed now.

"I'll do it," I said, after a moment. I almost regretted saying it as soon as the words were out of my mouth.

"Wonderful. Wonderful! Congratulations," he said, shaking my hand. He reached behind his door, pulling his long blue cloak off the coat rack. "I won't need this anymore," he said, running his coarse hands over it. He handed it to me. "I'll be seeing you, Grimm," he smiled – finally able to pass the name off to someone; and for the last time he spun around and Vanished.

By some odd amount of bad luck or Karma or… _whatever_, I'd been put in charge of all this idiocy. Yes, I was the much-feared Grimm Reaper himself. At least, I liked to believe I was much-feared. It wasn't exactly what I'd had in mind when I'd imagined an afterlife, but it was good enough for me; and I floated through each and every day, stealing souls and ruining lives – and none of it could ever fulfill me.

I found myself flipping through the files, not really looking at anyone, but searching for a familiar face – simply looking for bright green eyes, a mane of curly red hair… an excuse to touch that pale skin.

She wasn't there.

I didn't know why I wanted to see her there so badly – in fact, it was almost evil of me to want it, but hey… evil was practically my middle name.

"You're pathetic," Jared's voice resounded in my skull.

"Get out of my head," I warned.

"Fine."

I was almost angry that he couldn't keep himself out of my head, but at the same time I couldn't exactly disagree with him. I was pathetic; sitting here just wishing that I could steal this girl's soul and keep her here with me, all because I'd fallen in love with her pretty face.

With a new, self-pitying determination I began looking through the files again, pulling out the ones I felt needed to die today. Once I had twenty or so, I put on my long blue cloak and headed out into the early morning air.

The stones that lead away from my office were slick with rain, and a thick fog hung in the air, hiding the other buildings in the district. I imagine it would have been very cold – had I been able to feel it. Having no nerve endings made feeling _anything_ quite difficult. I tried to remember what the cool air would feel like on my skin, but I couldn't remember that sensation. It was very disappointing.


	2. Chapter 2

The Mortuary was only a few buildings down from my office

The Mortuary was only a few buildings down from my office. It was a very convenient building; designed and built by one of the Directors just a few years before. It made it possible to communicate with the Directors on Earth – who were really just fugitive Reapers who'd committed some crime or another, such as killing someone without their file, or bringing them to the Gate while they were still partially alive. It was a handy system, and it allowed the Reapers to tell the Directors exactly where they'd be and how many souls they'd be taking each day. I stood outside the door for a moment before entering, if just to collect my thoughts. Whenever I walked into _any_ building in the district they all made a huge fuss over me… stupid ass kissers. We were dead. Things like that shouldn't even matter anymore.

I entered the Mortuary, and as I expected, all activity froze. You could've heard a mouse fart. Every eye turned to me, and suddenly it was mass pandemonium – a hurricane of movement as the clerks scrambled to get to me first and meet my needs. A little fat one won the race.

"What can we do for you, your Honor?" he asked, practically convulsing with nerves.

"You can call me Grimm, firstly," I answered. The clerk looked so ashamed of himself I was certain he would have blushed had there been any blood running through his veins.

"Yes sir," he replied sheepishly. I hated it when my employees were more afraid of me in death than they were in life.

"And you can inform these Directors that they'll be busy today." I handed the list of the cities I'd be visiting that day to the clerks. Their eyes widened at the sight of my work load – as head Reaper I only ever took on ten or so souls myself, but I didn't care. I didn't want to have time to think about anything else… especially _her_…

"Whatever you say, boss," another clerk said, bringing me back to reality. I flinched at the stupid title, but chose to say nothing about it. I nodded at them and turned to walk back outside, and I was almost certain I felt their eyes burning through my cloak as I left. I couldn't handle people watching me Vanish, so as soon as I was on the street I had my cloak wrapped tightly around me and was spinning crazily- going to get my first soul of the day. _POOF_ – I was in New York.

One of the advantages of being dead was that no one could see or hear us – except for some fluke in the system that said that any person touching the body of the soul being Reaped can forever see any and every Reaper, and therefore must also be Reaped and pronounced dead – so appearing randomly in the middle of a crowded intersection didn't ever cause mass hysteria. It was a great trick.

I crossed the road quickly, with only one car passing through me. The building was easy to find – a dilapidated old dance studio where a bunch of fussy dancer-types were rehearsing their newest show. I walked through a few walls before finding my victim; some old choreographer named Eliz. He was standing there, screaming himself purple at a group of ballerinas. They stood in a group, some chewing their nails, some chomping loudly on gum – one of them stood up straight, nodding vigorously at the choreographer's words, her eyebrows knit close together, concentrating. She seemed like quite the little ray of sunshine.

I let him go on for a few minutes before claiming his soul – he yammered on about synchronization and "feeling the music" and all that nonsense. Blah, blah, blah…

I preferred doing my work quickly – nothing messy, no prolonged misery… it was my way of being "humane", if you will. I simply walked up behind his little tirade and ran my finger down his spine. His face turned red, he sputtered for air for a moment, and then he collapsed in a heap on the floor. To any EMT it would look like a heart attack. Under the cover of the ballerinas freaking out, I pried open his mouth and pulled out his soul; it came out swiftly and gently, resting in the palm of my hand – just a little ball of vapor. I put it in a little jar in my bag and Vanished just as the nodding girl bent to feel his pulse; avoiding a messy death scene. Easy enough.

The routine repeated itself throughout my day; heart attack, heart attack, car accident, ruptured appendix (for fun), heart attack, brain tumor, heart attack, suicide, heart attack… foolish human after foolish human simply dropping dead all over the place. Each death was stupid and tragic and caused public panic… as it would. I didn't really care anymore. It was uninteresting, and unimportant. That is, until I realized where my last victim was.

It was the same café where I'd first seen her, several months before… then it was someone choking on biscotti, but today… it had to be special. There was a slim chance that she'd be there, but she'd notice me… well, she'd notice _him_ dying, but it would be me doing it.

"Dude…" Jared's voice echoed.

"I _know_, Jared," I said. He went away.

He was right; that was sick. Singling out some unsuspecting man with a horrible death just to try and make her see I'm there. Were humans this stupid about love? I ended up on that same sunny street in California, outside of that green and red café, breathing heavily, trying to keep my head from swimming…

"Get a hold of yourself," I said loudly. It seemed to help. I pushed open the door, and walked inside. For two in the afternoon, it was fairly busy. It took me a minute to find the man, but he was standing behind the counter, mixing someone's coffee. I also searched the room for her, but I didn't see those crazy red curls anywhere. I'll admit it, I was selfishly disappointed.

I walked behind the counter, allowed the man to give the nice lady her coffee, and willed him to take a bite of biscotti. He smiled, chewed once or twice, and then I touched his throat. He began choking – and no one knew the Heimlich. Such a sad coincidence. He sputtered a few times, gasped for air, and fell to the ground; his face blue from lack of oxygen. I laughed a little at the irony; two people's deaths by biscotti in the same café.

Bending over the body, I used my fingers to pry open his mouth. Of course it was mass hysteria in the building, but no one had made it over the counter yet. I started to extract his soul, but something caught my attention; a new box of biscotti, dropped at the floor by his feet – it spilled everywhere, including on a pair of tiny black sneakers…

"Rick?" she frantically cried, and I realized too late what was happening. She knelt on the floor beside him, pulling her dazzling red curls out of her face – brilliant green eyes sparkling with panic. "Rick!" She was hesitant, I started to pull faster. If I got away from him before she touched him she wouldn't see me…

She grabbed his arm, searching for a pulse. Tears started to well up in her eyes; she stared at his hands, and her eyes moved upwards – and met mine.

She screamed.

I had to think fast; I finished taking his soul and put it in the jar and stuffed it in the bag – but could I kill her, too?

"Stop screaming," I demanded. She did. "Faint." She did. I thought quickly, someone was coming around the counter. "I'm going to take part of your soul with me," I told her. "They'll just think you're out cold." She made a sound that sounded like a half-sob, half-agreement. I pulled a tiny piece of her soul through her nose, and left the building quickly before I could mess anything else up.


	3. Chapter 3

She sat in my office, scared and confused

She sat in my office, scared and confused. I'd locked the door, let her scream and cry for a few hours… she was calmer, now, and I wanted to speak with her. After so long she was finally here with me. Her green eyes flitted quickly back and forth from the pile of papers to the door to me. I sat, silent, for several long minutes, watching her brain try and untangle everything on its own… she was terrified.

"Where am I?" She asked, after an excruciatingly long silence.

"You're in - " I started, but she interrupted;

"Am I dead?" her green eyes filled with sudden terror, and she began to cry again.

"No, no!" I said, almost shouting at her. "You're not dead."

"Then where am I?"

"You're… you're in Purgatory, I guess you'd call it,"

"Oh God – I _am_ dead!" She began sobbing, hysterically; gasping for air.

"You're not dead," I asserted. "I just brought _part_ of your soul with us."

"_Part _of my soul?"

"Yes."

"How…"

"Just the parts that are essential to making you human," I explained. "Brain functions, mostly. An immune system. Simple enough." she stared at me, blankly, tears spilling out of those green pools like the rain that thundered down outside.

"Why did you bring me here?" she asked, sadly.

"You saw me, when… what was his name…"

"Rick?"

"Yes; when Rick died."

"So? That means you have to steal my _soul_ and transport me to some horrible universe that doesn't even exist?"

"Doesn't exist? You're here, aren't you?"

"What if I'm dreaming?"

"Are you dreaming?" She thought for a long moment, wiping her nose once on her sleeve and rocking back and forth.

"No," she said, and the tears came down harder. "Why?"

"If I'd left you like that, having seen me," I tried to put it into terms she'd understand, "you'd have lost your mind. You would have spent years fearing Death itself because it carried my face – you'd see us everywhere. It would have been a terrible existence."

"So you kidnap my soul instead?"

"Essentially," I sighed. It must have sounded so stupid.

"So… if you only took part of my soul, where's my body?"

"In the hospital. In human terms, you're in a coma."

"In a _coma_?" She shrieked, nearly choking on another sob. "But I could _die_!" She buried her face in her arms, shaking violently. She remained like this for a few long moments, until she lifted her head, tears still falling from those eyes. I hated that I was the cause of those tears… of the swelling of those pretty green gems… "I could die…" she whispered, as if repeating it to herself might make it happen.

"No, you couldn't," I said slowly, hoping there was some chance that she might believe me. "Not unless you wanted to." She stared at me, open-mouthed. She didn't believe me.

"Who are you – _God_?" She asked, her eyes narrowing.

"No, not quite…" she sighed contemptuously. "My name is Grimm."

"Grimm?" The tears stopped for a moment. Now she _really_ didn't believe me. "As in the Grimm Reaper?" I nodded slowly. "You're a sick bastard." The words stung more than I ever thought they could. Of course, worse things had been said to me, but now it was coming from _her_. "You kill my brother, then you kidnap me, and expect me to believe you have part of my _soul_, and that you're the Grimm Reaper? And that my real body is still in California somewhere, lying in a coma in the hospital? Do you think I'm stupid?" I shook my head, not wanting to believe what I was hearing.

"No, it's all true, I can assure you -"

"Like hell you can." Now she was pissed. She was beyond upset. I was a little frightened. "So, are you going to kill me, rape me, what?"

"Neither," I said. "I can assure you that I don't mean any harm…"

"I don't want to talk to you anymore," she said, the tears returning to her eyes. "Please, just go away."

"Very well," I said, rising. "I'll send Vicki in with some food…"

"I'm not hungry."

"And she'll show you to your room."

I walked out into the hallway, closing the door quietly behind me. After it was shut, I heard her frantic sobs from behind the wood, and I wanted nothing more that to return to her, hold her, try to make her see that everything was fine. But it wasn't. I didn't know how I would fix this one.


	4. Chapter 4

It was several days before she would talk to me again

It was several days before she would talk to me again. I'd continued with my work; there was an abundance of heart attacks, lately. After a while she began to go out, and explore the District. I allowed her that much – I hoped that seeing everything here would help convince her that I was telling the truth, but I didn't see how that would help much. Apparently Rick had been her brother – and of _course_ it was me who killed him.

I didn't see how she would ever love me now.

One evening I came back to the District from Earth, to find her wandering around outside the Conversion Center. She glared at me as soon as I approached, and though the look still stung me, I was able to walk past her and into the building without collapsing from guilt. Once inside I walked swiftly past the counter and straight to the Portal door; a large, glass window that we let the souls from the day's Reaps lose in. If the soul was ready to cross over, by the next morning it would be gone. If it had unfinished business, the soul would resume the form of its natural body, and we would let them out the next day, where they would be lead to my office and things would be explained.

I twisted the lock on the large door, and set the jar inside. Twenty-five souls came flying out of it, and they began bouncing around inside, ricocheting off the glass and knocking into one another, all of them in a confused panic without their bodies. I selfishly hoped they'd all cross over tonight – I wasn't much in the mood for this whole Reaper thing anymore. I distributed all of their files in a box next to the Portal, and as I turned, I caught a glimpse of red curls.

"Good evening," I said, half-heartedly. I had no reason to expect that she'd even acknowledge me. She stepped out from behind the counter, clearing her throat. She seemed almost embarrassed.

"Hey." She folded her arms across her chest, defensively. It looked as though she'd been crying all day.

"How…" I couldn't decide what I should say to her. I felt like the evil monster all the stories had me made out to be. "How are you?" I asked finally, deciding that cordiality would work best.

"I'm alright," she answered, and I almost believed her. "I'm adjusting. This is all a little… much."

"I know," I said. "I was in your shoes once, too."

"Someone killed your brother and stole your soul?" she asked, chidingly. She wasn't happy with me.

"Something close to that, yes," I said. It was the truth. We were silent for several long moments. She simply stared at me; her pretty green eyes cold, but thoughtful. She seemed to be staring straight through me.

"What's that?" She asked, gesturing towards the Portal. "What are those things you put in there?"

"That's the Portal," I explained. It's where we put all the souls after they've been Reaped. Then they either cross over to the next "life", if you will, or they assume their human form and stay here, until their unfinished business is taken care of."

"Unfinished business?"

"Something that they were supposed to complete in life, but were unable to before they died," I explained. "Sometimes they can fix it in a few days, but most of the time it takes much longer."

"So you had unfinished business?"

"Yes."

"What was it, do you know?"

"I'm not exactly sure; but I've been here a long time. I have my theories."

"How long have you been here?"

I hesitating, wondering if she'd believe me if I told the truth. I decided I'd try it.

"Three hundred and fifty-two years," I said. She just gaped at me.

"You're lying to me again," she said.

"Why do you ask those questions, if you always assume that I'm lying?"

"Well, did you believe it when you first died?"

"I actually did," I said, and truthfully, I had. "This life just kind of suited me."

"This _life_?" she scoffed. She laughed, wryly. "This life." She looked around the Conversion Center, trying to understand the simple building and its purpose. "So, I'm really not dead?" she asked uncertainly.

"No, your body's just in a coma," I explained; again.

"This isn't some strange, prolonged dream?"

"Nope." She nodded, but said nothing. I figured she was beginning to accept the way things were.

"So… is Rick in there?" she asked, pointing to the Portal and effectively changing the subject.

"Not anymore," I said. "He was gone the very day we put him in there. It was definitely his time," I said. She looked at me strangely.

"So, he was ready to die?" she asked, sadly. It was obvious that she missed him.

"Yes."

"How do you know if they are or not?"

"Well, we can't always be sure." She glared at me skeptically, but her eyes, for the first time, held no hostility. It was a very calming revelation. I crossed to the box I'd put the files in, and held one out for her to see. She walked towards me, tentatively, as if she were afraid I'd suck her soul out right there. She took the file and gazed at it, taking in the information. There was a picture of a smiling bald man; his name printed across the top, with date of birth, location and age written below that. I had written below his picture the date and time of death. She studied it for a few long moments, and then looked at me, less skeptically than before. "Every person in the world has a file like that," I told her, "even you." She nodded. She believed me. "When it is their time to die, as they say, their file essentially jumps off the library shelf. All the files are collected throughout the week, and the next week they are left on my desk." Her large green eyes had locked onto mine – she was listening intently.

"I take the files after that and distribute them to some of the other Reapers; then we all go down to Earth and take out they ones we decided need to die on any certain day." She looked away from me, then, as if I'd been malicious. "It's a rather simple process."

"And Rick's file just showed up with the others?" She asked.

"Yes," I said.

"And little kid's files… do those show up too?"

"Occasionally," I admitted. I didn't like Reaping the souls of children. It reminded me too much of my own.

"That's so cruel," she said, disgusted.

"It's the circle of life," I told her.

"What a cold thing to say." She was upset with me again.

"Perhaps… but it's necessary." She sighed, and studied the floor.

"I suppose," she admitted. "I don't like it, though."

"I don't blame you," I said. "Secretly, I don't much like it either."

After that day she became more and more comfortable with her situation. It was almost alarming as to how well she adjusted. She enjoyed following me around, when I was in the District, and it gave me a reason to spend more time there. It surprised the other Reapers, but no one said anything. She was slowly becoming happier, which in turn made _me_ happier. I liked the feeling.

She was very curious about what went on there. She wondered why we let everyone believe in their religions and just not stifle it, as we 'had the power to', as she put it. One afternoon while we sat eating, (she was amazed that I actually still had to ingest food,) she asked why we killed so many people during wars and bombings and what not.

"It would upset the balance of nature if we didn't," I said. "If guns and explosives didn't have the power to kill a human, they would keep creating stronger, more terrible weapons that might eventually destroy the world itself." She nodded, chewing slowly; thinking it over.

"I think it's cruel," she said.

"You're not the only one," I pointed out.


	5. Chapter 5

Time with her began to be the only thing that mattered to me anymore

Time with her began to be the only thing that mattered to me anymore. I found it easier to breeze through my Reapings on a daily basis, only to return to the District to spend time with her. I'd almost forgotten that I'd left her physical body on Earth in a coma when she brought it up one day, while we walked around the foggy streets.

"Why did you just bring part of my soul back?" she asked slowly. She'd wanted to ask this for a long time.

It wouldn't have made sense for me to take the whole thing," I admitted.

"Why not?"

"Well, it's complicated," I started, but she cut in;

"And the rest of this isn't?"

"Touché," I said. "But Rick choked on biscotti; that was his way to die. It wouldn't have made sense if you just _suddenly_ dropped dead, simply because your brother choked to death."

"I could have gone into cardiac arrest, or shock," she reasoned.

"At your age?" I pointed out. "No. I did put you into shock," I said. "From the moment you screamed I took complete control of you. I told you to stop screaming, and you did. I told you to faint, and you did; and I put you into a coma – a form of shock at the sudden death of your brother. At least, that's what the EMT's diagnosed it as."

She looked me over with those green eyes, as if trying to see if I were lying.

"Does this happen often?" she asked.

"No, actually… you're the first." I didn't really think about what I was saying. Now she was confused.

"But what about all the other coma patients?"

"Physical coincidences," I said. "They're sick… you weren't sick, however. I just made it seem like you were."

"So I'm the first person to have seen a Reaper?" she asked.

"No…" I said slowly.

"Then why did you have to sedate me?"

"I told you, you would have gone crazy…"

"Then why aren't there more crazy people on Earth shouting up and down that they can see Death?"

"Because," I said, measuring my words carefully; "generally we're supposed to take the souls of anyone who sees us."

"How often can people see you?"

"Only if they touch the body while we're extracting that person's soul."

"So when I grabbed Rick's hand-"

"I wasn't finished taking his soul out, yet." She suddenly seemed to understand it.

"But then why didn't you take my soul, like you were supposed to?"

"It wouldn't have made sense-" I said again, not wanting her to see the real reason.

"Bull; up until then you didn't care, you would have made it look like I'd died… but you didn't. You kept me alive. Why?"

I stared down at her questioning green eyes, not wanting to have to tell the truth. I didn't say anything for a few long minutes, weighing my answer.

"I wanted you to have a choice," I said. She raised one eyebrow, unsure of my answer.

"Why me?" she asked. She knew it didn't make sense – and I was certain she knew I was hiding something.

"I cared about you," I said quickly, looking at the ground. She just stared at me, open mouthed, truly surprised by my words.

"You _cared_, about _**me**_?" she sputtered, unsure of what to think. I just nodded. I couldn't find my voice anymore. "But… why?"

"I don't know," I said, which was a lie. I knew perfectly well.

"Yes, you do," she said, almost angrily.

"I'd seen you before," I said. "At the café- when that man died…"

"Yeah, choking on… biscotti…" her eyes widened as she put the two together. "That was _you_? You were there then, too?" I nodded. "But, I was right there – I grabbed his arm to feel a pulse-"

"After I'd taken his soul."

She was quiet a moment.

"Why did you notice _me_?" she asked, as if it were some evil thing – like I'd been planning out her death.

"You were _beautiful_," I said, which made her look back up into my eyes. "Possibly the most wonderful being I'd ever laid eyes on."

"How…"

"As I was leaving, I saw you try to take his pulse. I almost didn't leave, I was so entranced." She stared up at me, mulling my words over and over in her brain.

"So you came back to kill my brother…"

"No. That was coincidence." I tried to sound as earnest as possible. She seemed to believe me.

"But he choked on the biscotti, too-"

"I'm a fan of irony," I said. "Even if it is a bit cold."

"So you made him choke on biscotti?"

"Essentially."

"So, why didn't you take his soul and split, like the first time?"

"Honestly?" I asked, feeling childish.

"Honestly." she said.

"I'd been looking for you," I admitted slowly. She looked away. "I don't know why – but I'd noticed you… I asked for periodic updates, some days, when I wasn't busy, I followed you around…"

"Oh my _God_," she gasped.

"In a strictly non-creepy way," I assured her quickly. "Just to the library, to see what books you liked, things like that." She was staring at the ground now, taking in my words slowly. "I dunno. I liked you."

"So you followed me?"

"Yes…" I paused, frustrated with my own stupidity. "Something about you made me feel different," I fumbled with words, trying to convey my reasoning. "I felt _alive_." I knew full well that the pun would sound ridiculous, but it was reasonable enough.

"Because of a crush?" she asked.

"Pretty much." We were silent again for a while. She was thinking over this information as best she could, and I was bashing myself for idiocy. Humans weren't even this dumb.

"Why me?" she asked.

"I don't know," I answered, and I honestly didn't. "Just something you did or… something that happened between us in that five second period of time. I'm not sure."

"I see." She was silent again for a moment, then said; "How long have you been dead?" It was a sudden question, one that I didn't think would come up in this conversation.

"I don't think you'd believe me if I told the truth."

"Try me," she said. I sighed heavily.

"Three hundred and fifty-two years," I said. Saying it out loud made me feel ancient compared to her.

"Wow," she said, not believing me at first, but I assumed she looked at the pain written on my face and knew I wasn't lying. "May I ask you something personal?" she asked, trying to consider my feelings.

"Anything," I said, wanting her to see that I truly meant no harm.

"How did you die?"

"European influenza," I answered, without hesitation. I'd been asked several thousand times before. "1650 – it claimed my whole family."

"You had a family?"

"Yes, a son, and a daughter." I paused, remembering. "And a wife."

"Were you sad, when they died?"

"To a moderate extent, yes," I said.

"To an extent?"

"I loved my children, certainly ," I said, "but I admired my wife. She was a strong, intelligent woman – very admirable. But I was not in love with her."

"How could you have married her, if you didn't love her?"

"Things were very different, back then," I said. "We didn't marry for love, or companionship. It was all about the politics – money, power. That was all that mattered."

"What a terrible life to live," she said, sadly.

"In many ways, yes."

"So none of your family had… "unfinished business"?

"No, they all made it through the Portal."

"And you?"

"I stayed here. I have unfinished business that I need to… figure out, still."

She looked up at me, searching my face for any traces of a hidden something.

"Maybe…" she paused, thinking. "Maybe I could help you," she said. I was completely surprised.

"Help me?" I asked, shocked, "how?"

"Find your "unfinished business" and help you finish it, so you can cross over." I could have picked her up and swung her around, I was so happy. "I think I know what it is, too."

"You'd really do that?" I asked.

"It's better than wasting all my time in a stupid café," she said. "Besides, life is over-rated anyway."

"So… you want me to take your soul?" I asked, unsure of her intentions.

"I think I do," she said. "As long as you bring me right back here."

"I think I can manage that," I said, and she smiled. It was the first time I'd seen that brilliant smile in weeks… it almost filled me up completely with overwhelming joy just to see it.


End file.
